


The Cure

by BrevitySoulWit93



Series: Only For You [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Bad Weather, Canon Era, Caring Merlin (Merlin), Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Fluffy, Idiots in Love, M/M, Pining, Protective Merlin, SO MUCH FLUFF, Sick Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Sleepy Cuddles, They don't know they're in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:00:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28736889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrevitySoulWit93/pseuds/BrevitySoulWit93
Summary: Prince Arthur has a headache, and trusts Merlin to make him feel better. Magic and cuddling ensues between two besotted idiots who don't realise they are meant for each other.
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Only For You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138946
Comments: 24
Kudos: 352





	The Cure

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little soft and fluffy something I had an idea for and had to get down. Nice and short! I'm contemplating making this a series if people like it! Inspired by a beautiful piece of fan art I came across on Tumblr which you should be able to find here: https://chocolot.tumblr.com/post/173160999670/by-the-window
> 
> Please do leave kudos/comments if you enjoy!

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, Arthur tossed the quill to the desk, dropping his forehead to the parchments in front of him with a dull thud. Merlin looked up from his perch in the window seat where he sat polishing Arthur’s chainmail, his dark brows knitted in deep concentration.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his eyes tracing the deep trough of discomfort between Arthur’s eyebrows as he raised his head again, squinting a little in the low light.

“Aside from feeling like someone is repeatedly taking a mace to the inside of my skull, yes, I’m fine,” replied the prince, rising from the desk in one sinuous movement and crossing the room, his long, strong legs making quick work of the distance. With a huff, he threw himself down opposite Merlin, cracking the window open and heaving a lungful of fresh air.

“There’s a storm brewing, I expect it’s a pressure headache. You get them a lot,” mumbled Merlin, returning to the job at hand. Arthur flicked his gaze towards his manservant, kicking his ankle gently where their bent legs lay near one another.

“And what would you know about my headaches?”

The withering glare the servant sent his way made the prince chuckle darkly, rolling his neck this way and that in a vain attempt to relieve the aching muscles there.

“I know everything about you, thanks - particularly your headaches, since you act even more like a wounded bear than usual. What’s wrong with your neck? Is it sore from holding up the weight of your massive head all day?”

The kick Arthur delivered was more violent this time, even as he screwed his face up and leaned his forehead against the cool glass.

Outside, the main courtyard of the citadel was a hive of activity even despite the appalling weather. The crimson capes of the knights of Camelot whipped around them in the burgeoning gale, their fine horses fretting against calming words of their handlers. Merlin studied Arthur carefully as he rubbed wax into every individual link of the chainmail he took such pride in. The prince was paler than usual, and a vein seemed to throb at his temple.

“Would you like me to fetch you something from Gaius’s chambers? I’m sure we have some fresh camomile, if you’d like?”

The playfulness seeped out of his tone, colouring it instead with a sincere concern. Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, Arthur shook his head. The prince picked idly at a loose thread on the cushion next to him, apparently deep in thought even as his head throbbed.

“Is there nothing you can do for it? Something more immediate, perhaps?”

He glanced up through the curtain of his fair hair, which shone like the sun even on the greyest of days. Merlin held his gaze for a beat, before looking quickly to the open chamber door.

Since Arthur had become aware of Merlin’s magic, they had danced around the subject. The sorcerer, for his part, was simply relieved and somewhat agog at the fact the prince had not turned him over to the king. This was a testament to not only Arthur’s improving morals, but also the strength of their relationship, no matter how much they sniped and griped at one another. Merlin took care to perform his duties as normal, keeping his magic sacrosanct, only to be used when in dire need as had been his habit all along.

The prince regarded his servant-come-friend with a pained look, nodding pointedly. Merlin took a deep, steadying breath and dropped the chainmail to the floor, spreading his legs apart so one hung off the little bench and the other was crooked against the windowpane. He gestured with one long fingered hand for Arthur to come closer.

“Come, sit here,” he smiled, patting the spot between his legs. “Turn your back to me.”

“Shouldn’t I close the door?”

“It’s fine, no-one will know what I’m doing and it won’t take long.”

It was a strong indication of how poorly he felt that Arthur actually did as he was bid, settling gingerly down on the window seat with a ramrod straight spine and a twitch in his jaw. The nerves radiated off him in waves, Merlin noticed with a smirk. For all his guile, Arthur was still young, and the prospect of magic frightened him.

“Your hands are cold,” Arthur chuckled thickly as Merlin settled the tips of his fingers against the muscles at the back of his neck: thick cords of tension demonstrating that the blonde was wound as tightly as a compressed spring. Merlin’s laugh was soft as he concentrated on allowing just the tiniest spark of magic to seep into Arthur’s skin, his warm breath a zephyr against the hair that settled at his nape.

“How does that feel?”

Merlin’s voice came out as a purr, something which he had not intended. He got to touch Arthur every day in so many ways, but being allowed to use his magic in this way was an entirely new experience which seemed to make his head swim.

“Feels good,” Arthur murmured in reply, the line of his broad shoulders sagging a little as he relaxed. “My head still hurts, though.”

“That’s fine. Lean on me.”

Dutifully, Arthur shuffled closer until his back was flush against Merlin’s chest, his head flopped lazily onto his shoulder. From this angle, the lines of Merlin’s cheekbones were accented by the faint candlelight, the pale cast of his skin taking on a flush he’d never seen there before. A moment passed before Merlin pressed a cool palm to Arthur’s forehead, pushing the hair away from his eyes to settle fully on the slightly clammy skin underneath. The prince heard his friend whisper a few choice words which he did not understand, and almost immediately the hammer sounding against his skull stilled.

The sorcerer withdrew his hand, but the prince caught him by the wrist and replaced it, revelling in the broad palm and long fingers against his skin.

“You might feel sleepy,” Merlin murmured against his ear, the thumb of his free hand soothing across the jumping pulse on the soft, almost too intimate underside Arthur’s wrist. “Shall I help you to bed?”

“No. Stay.”

Arthur turned his face and burrowed his nose into the long, pale column of Merlin’s neck, the sorcerer’s fingers slipping to tangle instead in his flaxen hair.The prince nuzzled a breath closer, drawing Merlin’s arm across his waist in a display of vulnerability he had never shown before.

Before long, the breath against Merlin’s neck had become slow and steady, the prince gone boneless in his lap as he slept. Carding his fingers through the hair at Arthur’s temple, Merlin allowed himself to sink momentarily into the deep, dark, hellish pit that were the emotions he kept at bay. Gods, he loved the absolute bones of this cantankerous, arrogant, _wonderful_ moron, and there was no point in denying it. No sense whatsoever in denying the way liquid joy seeped into his chest as Arthur wound his fingers through Merlin’s where their hands lay on his belly, the cool metal of his ring a stark contrast to the warmth of his skin. What a fruitless task it would be to pretend he did not spend hours in the privacy of his chambers, reliving their latest loaded stare with the prickle of possibility just under his skin.

Irrespective of the people who gawked up them slotted together at the window, and of the rain which suddenly began to fall in icy sheets, Merlin buried his face into the silken thatch of hair on the crown of Arthur’s head. As he joined his prince in restfulness, he allowed the scents that were so uniquely Arthur to linger in his nose and burn into his memory like a brand. The aromas so beloved and all consuming that they settled him at once, sending him over the precipice into sleep; the scents of spiced soap, warm earth and steel.


End file.
